


No Good

by notvelma



Series: Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:18:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notvelma/pseuds/notvelma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you cared about Hank, you'd stop manipulating him like this."<br/>Normally Tommy wouldn't think twice about his eldest brother's stupid advice, but what if Nick is right? What if the only bad thing in Hank's life is Tommy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Good

* * * 

_"If this is the last kiss, let's make it last all night"_

* * * 

It didn't matter how many times they'd slept together since that first time, Tommy Howard still didn't think he'd ever let himself get used to waking up next to his little brother Hank. The fear that this would be taken away from him was too great, so he dared not enjoy the feel of Hank's head tucked against his chest, Hank's legs draped over his, Hank's rhythmic snoring providing comforting background noise. He couldn't allow himself the luxury of acting like this was normal. 

This morning, Tommy found himself awake before his alarm clock, staring up at the ceiling as Hank dozed beside him, snoring softly. 

He thought of the sex they'd had the night before – remembered Hank clutching the headboard as Tommy had thrust into him, remembered the noises his little brother had made and the begging. God, every time they fucked, Hank would beg and plead for his orgasm as though Tommy could deny him that, as though Tommy would ever deny him anything. Hank had come hard, shuddering and moaning Tommy's name like it was a prayer. 

Hank's arms were a pleasure to watch on their own, the way the muscles tightened with his grip or loosened when his body went slack after orgasm. Every bit of Hank was a work of art; his body was a Greek statue carved from marble by a loving artist's careful hands. 

Even now, the morning sunlight streamed across Hank's bare skin, illuminating his body and making him look like he was some kind of fucking angel. Tommy's chest ached, suddenly overcome with emotion. He knew, in the end, that he could not give Hank a good life. They could never get married, never raise children together, and never have a real, normal life. Tommy could live without that stuff, but he didn't want to drag Hank with him. Hank deserved a husband and children. Hank deserved a dog and a backyard and a happy perfect life and he didn't deserve to be stuck this way. 

The abrupt buzzing from the alarm clock on the side table startled Tommy out of his daze, and he quickly rolled over to shut it off. 

Next to him, Hank shifted, mumbling, "Turn that fucking thing off before I throw it across the room." He buried his face into the pillow, groaning. "It's my day off, for fuck's sake."

"Go back to sleep, baby," said Tommy. He sighed and stretched his limbs before he rolled out of bed, shuffling down the hall to the kitchen. Every week day it seemed too early to be up, but every week day he got himself out of bed, showered, fed, and dressed before he headed off to work. Every day he managed to put his eight and half hours in without fail. Sometimes though, the routine got so fucking tiresome that he didn't even know if it was worth it. 

After setting the coffee to brew, Tommy took his shower, shaved, and dressed himself for work. Hank was still in bed, and though the sight of his naked body stirred lust inside Tommy, there wasn't time for them to do anything before he had to be at work, so he just rubbed Hank's shoulder and gave him a little kiss on the forehead that Hank probably didn't even notice, and then he went back to the kitchen. A cup of coffee, a bacon-and-egg sandwich, and then it was off to a day's work for Tommy Howard. 

Sometimes things started to feel scary and domestic for him, despite how many times he'd told himself that he couldn't want this sort of life, not with his baby brother. Not with Hank. But fuck did it feel good to have somebody waiting there at home in bed for him, somebody he could come home to and somebody he could kiss like he owned them. 

Truth was, though, he didn't own Hank; Hank owned him. Hank was the only person in the world who got Tommy all shook up like this and boy did Tommy like it. He just wished he could talk to somebody about it without having to explain why the hell he was fucking his brother. 

"The fuck is that smug look for?" asked Roy as Tommy put his coffee cup down on the counter to shrug out of his coat. "You know, Tommy, you been looking a lot better lately. You getting laid on the regular or something?" 

Roy was only younger than Tommy by a year, but he had a baby face and big blue eyes and the surprisingly lack of ability to grow any facial hair, so he could pass for twenty, easy. Despite his innocent looks and wide gaze, Roy was one of the dirtiest guys on the crew, always telling tales that were ten times raunchier than anything the others could come up with. 

"Yeah, I'm fucking your mother," Tommy snapped back, but he kept just a hint of a smirk on his face so Roy didn't take it too seriously. No reason in getting the kid upset this early in the morning.

"Don't see how that's possible," interjected Jeff as he entered as well, taking off his jacket and hanging it up next to Tommy's, "seeing as how I was with Roy's mom last night." 

"Shut up!" Roy scowled. He clearly didn't like the way the conversation had turned. "My mother is a very sweet lady and it's rude of you to say those things about her." He looked like an upset child and Tommy wanted nothing more than to ruffle his hair, so he did, which just made Roy scowl even more.

There was nothing like a little banter to get the day going, and Tommy felt much more relaxed now that he'd gotten it out of his system. It was easier to focus on the work ahead of him now that he didn't have other, heavier thoughts weighing on his mind.

*

It was just past noon, and Tommy was out back working on a routine oil change for one of their regular customers when Roy came up next to him. The blond stood next to the car for a long moment until Tommy finally said, "What?" irritably. He hated being interrupted while he was working, and he hated even more having somebody watching him.

"Guy out front asking for you," said Roy. "Says he's your brother." 

Instantly, Tommy perked up. Had Hank come to bring him lunch? He'd teased his brother about that before, but Hank had never really followed through. Maybe he'd gotten lucky today, though he'd have trouble keeping their interaction strictly brotherly even around his coworkers.

But when Tommy got into the waiting area, he was disappointed to see that it wasn't Hank waiting for him, but their eldest brother Nick. And he did not look happy. Tommy's chest thumped loudly and he wondered if it would be cowardly to punch his brother in the face and then run. He had no desire to have whatever conversation it was that Nick wanted to have, and certainly not while he was supposed to be working. His body trembled, but it wasn't with fear.

"We need to talk," said Nick as he approached. "Is there somewhere private we can have this conversation? It's not one I feel comfortable having in front of your coworkers." 

Exhaling, Tommy looked to Dave, who was at the front desk. "I'm gonna be taking my lunch hour now. Can you have Roy finish up that oil change for me?" 

"Sure thing." Dave nodded, but his eyes were curious as he flicked his gaze to Nick standing in the doorway. No doubt he was forming opinions in his head already. None of his coworkers had ever met any of Tommy's family, and Tommy usually didn't talk about personal shit at work, so that just made it all the more awkward that his older brother was here. 

Tommy ushered Nick out of there as fast as he could go, because he didn't want Dave getting any ideas about what was happening here. He didn't think it was anybody's business anyway, but he didn't really know a private place for them to talk. "You hungry?" 

"Not particularly, but if you would prefer a restaurant to be the setting for this conversation, I won't refuse." Nick was using his Teacher voice, and Tommy wanted to punch him in the mouth until he bled and his lip was swollen and he couldn't talk like a condescending douche bag anymore.

"Seeing as how it's my lunch hour, I'm gonna get something to eat. If you wanna talk with me, then I guess you're going to have to come with me." Tommy knew his attitude was over the top, but there was something about the way Nick talked to him that made Tommy's bratty inner child come out.

His older brother chose not to respond to that, but he followed Tommy across the street to the small diner there. They were seated quickly because the place wasn't very full at all. Tommy didn't yet know if this was a good thing or a bad thing. More people could have prevented Nick from making a scene, but less people meant that their conversation was less likely to be overheard. He exhaled.

"I assume you know what I'd like to speak to you about," said Nick carefully.

"Can this wait a minute? I ain't decided whether I'm gonna have a turkey club or a Rueben. What do you think, Nick?" Tommy looked over at him, a challenge in his eyes. Nick could play Dad all he wanted, but he needed to remember that Tommy was still bigger than him. Tommy had already whipped his butt in a fight before, and he could do it again.

Exhaling, Nick folding his hands on top of the table and waited patiently. 

When the waitress returned, Tommy ordered his sandwich and his drink. Nick ordered nothing, just gave the waitress a curt nod before she left. Then he turned back to Tommy again.

Rather than a question this time, he went straight ahead with, "Jen told me something disturbing about you and Hank, and I don't want to believe it's true, but I have no reason to suspect our sister of lying. Do you know what I'm talking about, Tommy?"

Tommy's hands reached into his pocket for his cell phone and he wished he could text Hank right now. He needed that support, but he didn't know what good it would do him. "Why don't you tell me and I'll tell you if I was thinking of the same thing," he said casually.

"I don't know why you think this is a joke," said Nick, narrowing his eyes. "This is a very serious comment that Jen made to me, and I've taken my time in responding to it because I was trying to figure out how to broach this with you." 

"First of all, Nick, it ain't none of your fuckin business what I do with my life. You being my brother ain't got anything to do with it. Sharing blood don't mean shit when you treat me like I'm some kind of embarrassment." Tommy shook his head, feeling his hands curl up into a fist under the table. He was thankful Nick couldn't see that gesture, because he'd probably make some comment about Tommy needing to control his aggression.

Nick closed his eyes, briefly, and then opened them again, breathing slowly. "I'm going to ignore the hostile tone you're using toward me and remind you that I am still part of your family whether you like it or not. And for your information, I was Hank's legal guardian for several years, and it's his interests that I am looking out for."

"Oh? You're protecting Hank, is that it? You wanna be his big brother and take care of him? Ain't it a bit fucking late for that?" Tommy wanted to choke Nick until his eyes turned blue, and it was all he could do to keep from reach across the table and wrapping his hands around his brother's neck. "I take care of Hank just fine, thank you, and we're doing just fine without you, too." 

"I heard about the way you're taking care of him," said Nick drily. He looked down at the table, tracing his hand over the pattern on the countertop. "You know I've never had an issue with that fact that you sleep with men, Tommy. And I've respected Hank's lifestyle choices as well, but this is taking things too far. Don't you see that what you're doing with him is wrong?" 

At 'lifestyle choices', Tommy snorted, but the frustration and anger continued to well up inside of him. He was in the wrong place to lash out at Nick, no matter how badly he wanted to. "Hank is my brother, too, and he's the only fucking person in the world I give a shit about, so don't you fucking tell me that what I am doing is wrong. Hank means more to me than he ever will to you." His hands shook, but he knew that he was speaking the truth. 

Nick knew it, too, but he didn't say any such thing. "If you cared about him, you would stop manipulating him that way. You're older than him, and I know there is no way he is entering into such an arrangement consensually. There is no reason for you to drag your intelligent younger brother into your – your _perversion_. If he's going to sleep with men, I would rather it be men that aren't you, Tommy."

There was a momentary silence between them, and it was at this point that Tommy's food arrived, so he took the moment to thank the waitress and prepare his sandwich. He wasn't hungry anymore, though, because how the hell was he supposed to eat after that? What could he say to Nick to counter that bullet? God, Tommy knew he was perverted for what he wanted from Hank, but to hear Nick say it out loud like that made him sick to his stomach.

Was he really manipulating Hank into being with him? He didn't think he'd been pushing Hank into anything that Hank didn't want, but what if he was? What if Hank was scared of him and only going along with it because he didn't want to get hurt? That hadn't been Tommy's intention at all. He had no idea what to say to Nick in his own defense. 

He picked at his sandwich for a couple minutes, but it was hard to ignore Nick sitting right across from him, waiting for a response. "Why are you talking to me about this?" he asked finally. "If you're so fucking worried about Hank, why don't you talk to him instead of me?" 

Exhaling, Nick shrugged. "You're the bigger man here, figuratively speaking. I doubt that Hank is fully aware of how you're manipulating him. If I spoke with him, no doubt he'd try to defend your actions to me. Hank has always worshipped you inappropriately. In his mind, you can do no wrong and that's not a healthy attitude for somebody. Tommy, you're not exactly a saint." 

"Never fucking said I was," growled Tommy, feeling the rage well up inside his throat like bile. There was a timer on his tolerance for Nick's bullshit, and that timer had just gone off, leaving Tommy with a sour taste in his mouth and hands that were itching to hit. 

He pushed his plate away from him. "I think I gotta get back to work now," he said. His lunch hour wasn't up, but Tommy didn't think he could stomach looking at Nick's face any longer. If he did, he might do something violent, and this really wasn't the place for that. 

Standing up from the table, Tommy pulled his wallet out of his pocket and tossed a twenty on the table. He looked down at Nick, who had a smug look on his asshole face. Tommy turned his back on that and left so he could stop himself from punching his brother in the mouth like he wanted to.

*

Walking in the front door to the house at the end of the day felt like walking down the stretch of hallway to the gallows, and Tommy wished somebody would hang a noose around his neck. His stomach filled with dread and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

"Tommy?" called Hank from the kitchen. "That you?"

 _Well who the fuck else would be walking in the front door without knocking?_ Tommy bit his tongue and said nothing, however.

"You're just in time. Dinner's almost ready." 

When Tommy entered the kitchen, the sight of Hank in ratty sweatpants and one of Tommy's t-shirts was almost enough to make him forget what he had steeled himself to do. 

There was a section of hair on the back of Hank's neck that curled up just right. Hank looked so inviting, and Tommy wanted to come up behind him, put his hands on Hank's waist and kiss his brother's neck. Then he wanted to dip his hands down and fondle Hank's cock until his brother begged him to stop, or until he came hard inside his pants and had to go change. 

"I'll just go wash up," said Tommy. He had to force himself to turn around and go back down the hall to his bedroom, where he stripped out of his sweaty and dirty work clothes to change into something clean. Then he took a moment to collect himself, trying desperately to push the lustful thoughts of his brother out of his head. 

Though it was difficult to admit that Nick could be right about something, Tommy knew in his heart that he had fucked this up too much. He should never have made that move on his brother the first time. He should never have done any of it, but he'd been thinking with his dick and screwed everything up just like he always did. Every single fuck up that he had ever made was because he thought with his dick instead of his brain. 

The idea that his feelings toward Hank went further than lust – well, that was one that Tommy did not want to consider at the moment. He'd said things to Hank, maybe used the l-word before or gotten a little sappy, but words were just words, right? It wasn't right to think about being in love with his brother, to think about spending the rest of your life with your brother, like maybe the two of them could have been some normal fucking couple. 

The whole thing was just wrong and Tommy _knew_ it was wrong and yet he'd deluded himself into thinking that maybe it would be okay. Fuck, he'd messed it up and even knowing that, he still didn't want to have to stop. Everything had been so good, and now he was supposed to just go in there and tell Hank _I'm sorry, I can't fuck you tonight or ever, and I won't ever touch you again because I'm a fucking asshole who forced you into being with me and I fucking hate myself for it._

Exhaling shakily, he told himself that he could do this. He had to take another minute to brace himself, but then he went out to the kitchen only to find that Hank had already set their plates. He'd even opened up a bottle of beer and set it next to Tommy's plate. How thoughtful of him. 

Tommy wanted to kiss him just for that, but instead he just kind of grunted his thanks and sat down to the table. He exhaled again, but no amount of breathing was going to relax him the way he wanted to. He picked up his fork and knife to start cutting into the steaks Hank had prepared – exactly the way Tommy liked his, of course, because Hank knew fucking everything about him. 

The meal started off in near silence, but that was the way Tommy liked it. He didn't need to talk to Hank about his day, and since Hank hadn't done much of anything on his day, there wasn't much for either of them to talk about. It wasn't like Hank gave a shit about the cars Tommy had worked on or the customers he'd talked to or whatever dumb things his coworkers said. 

"Something's on your mind," said Hank finally. "Want to talk about it?" He was peering at Tommy across the table like maybe he thought he could read Tommy's mind. "Did something happen at work?" God, of course he had to sound a little worried, too.

Tommy didn't want him to be worried. He didn't want Hank asking him this shit like he cared, because if Hank acted like he cared, it just made things that much harder for Tommy. "Nick came to talk to me," he said honestly. "I shoulda punched his fucking face in the second I saw him, but I didn't. Asshole deserves it, though."

"What did he want to talk about?" 

Shrugging, Tommy picked at his steak and tried to think about how much he wanted to tell Hank. He shouldn't have even mentioned Nick in the first place, dammit. It was going to make things that much harder because now he had to talk about it. There was no ignoring it. "He knows."

He didn't even have to add anymore to that, because Hank knew exactly what he was talking about. His younger brother's face went pale. "Fuck, how?" Then, before Tommy could add to that, he said, "It was Jen, wasn't it? For fuck's sake." He exhaled, dropping his fork on his plate. "What did he say about it? Probably he thinks we're both a couple of perverts. Christ." He shook his head.

"Actually, he doesn't give a fuck about you, really. He thinks I'm the fucked up one. He said I forced you into this shit," answered Tommy. And then he averted his gaze from Hank's as he added, "And I think he's right. I think this is wrong and I think we need to stop. We can't do this anymore." 

There was a long, uncomfortable silence between the two of them. Tommy was holding his breath as he looked back up at Hank. Those blue eyes were looking right at him, blinking slowly and carefully as he seemed to take it all in. 

"Can't do this anymore?" Hank repeated. He blinked again. "Tommy, what the fuck are you talking about?" 

Tommy's tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously. "I shouldn't have fucked you that first time. We shouldn't be sleeping together." When the words came out of his mouth, Tommy knew there was no way he could take them back. "Hank, you know we shouldn't do this. I was wrong to force you."

At that, Hank seemed suddenly to explode. "What the fuck?" He slammed his fist on the table, silverware clattering with the force of it. "Tommy, are you fucking serious?" His cheeks brightened red with the emotion in his words, and Tommy's heart nearly broke at how like him Hank really was. That trademark Howard anger was always bubbling beneath the surface, but usually Hank did a much better job than Tommy at keeping it contained. Was this what it took to stir his anger? 

"Yes, I'm fucking serious," snapped Tommy, feeling his own anger starting to well up inside of him, too. He hadn't wanted it to go this way. "I'm your goddamn brother and you shouldn't be letting me do this shit to you. For fuck's sake, Hank, you could have anybody you wanted in the fucking world and you choose to let me fuck you. You shouldn't be that fucking desperate. You need to go out and find somebody else to fuck and stay away from me. I'm no good for you anyway." Shaking his head, Tommy pushed away from the table. He didn't have the stomach for any of the food anymore.

He wanted to go back to his room to be alone with a beer or something stronger, but suddenly Hank's grip was tight on his arm. 

"Not so fucking fast, you asshole." Hank was glaring at him. "You can't drop that bomb and just leave. We need to talk about this and you aren't going off anywhere until you tell me what the fuck you meant by that." Hank's tone was sharp, sharper than Tommy was used to. He was angry. 

Tommy hadn't seen Hank this angry in a long time, and he didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do with that. He hadn't known what to expect from Hank, but this wasn't the reaction he'd been hoping for. _Did you really think Hank was going to give in that easily?_ asked a voice in the back of his head. He pushed it aside and steeled himself, gritting his teeth. 

"What I mean by that, Hank, is that you need to find somebody else to fuck because I ain't doing it anymore. Now let go of me before I punch your fucking teeth in," he growled, even if it wasn't Hank's teeth he wanted to bust in. None of this was Hank's fault, but he was the only one here right now for Tommy to get angry with and so he was bearing the brunt of Tommy's anger. 

After a beat where the two of them stared at each other, Hank released Tommy's arm. 

"You fucking asshole," he growled, and grabbed Tommy's face in both hands, tugging the larger man down to his level as he planted a rough kiss on his brother's mouth. Hank's mouth was strong, his kiss determined and his tongue hot as he licked Tommy's lips and tried to deepen the kiss.

And Tommy wanted so fucking much to kiss him back. His hands itched to hold Hank, to wrap around that body and pull Hank as close as he could get him. He wanted to lick his way into Hank's mouth, suck on his brother's tongue, and then work his hands under Hank's shirt and feel that skin under his fingertips. But he couldn't do it – he couldn't do any of it because he knew that once he did, he wouldn't be able to stop himself. One last fuck could never be _one last fuck_ because he'd lose his resolve once he touched Hank. 

With one shove, he pushed Hank away, watching his brother stumble a couple steps back in surprise. "Don't fucking touch me like that again. I fucking mean it." 

Hank bit his lip, watching Tommy with his brow furrowed. He looked like he was trying not to cry, and fuck Tommy did not want to see that. "You don't mean it. I know you don't mean it. We've been so good together, haven't we? Why do you think I need anybody else? Do you think I would pick you if I wanted to? Do you think this is some kinda choice I made?" The anger was still glimmering behind Hank's eyes. "If I wanted to fall in love like this you think I would pick my own brother? No, I fucking wouldn't, especially not an alcoholic with anger problems like you. But you know what, Tommy? It happened anyway and you're fucking stuck with me." At the end of his little rant, Hank was breathing hard, his chest heaving with every inhale.

There was a long silence between the two of them, stretching to interminable lengths as Tommy tried to think of what to say. Hank was fighting hard for this and Tommy wanted to give it to him. He wanted his brother happy. He didn't want to end this any more than Hank did, but Nick's words echoed in his head like some kind of broken record.

_If you cared about Hank, you'd stop manipulating him like this._

_If you cared about Hank. If you cared about Hank._

_If you cared –_

"Goddammit, Hank. Stop fighting this. Use your fucking brain. I'm your brother and this is wrong and we both know it. You're supposed to be the smart one of the family, ain't you? You shoulda told me no and you should have pushed me away, and right fucking now you need to stop arguing with me." Tommy grit his teeth, feeling his jaw start to ache from the tightness of his mouth. He wanted a drink. He wanted several drinks. 

He also wanted to throw a bottle at the wall and watch it smash into a hundred pieces. A dozen other scenarios ran through his head of how this could end, and only one of them was good – an image of him and Hank curled up in bed together, Hank's head resting on his chest as he snored.

Tommy ignored the tears that were threatening his eyes because he could not have this. He could not have this and he could not want it and it wasn't fucking right. 

"Why does it matter if we shouldn't do it?" said Hank. "I'm a cop, Tommy, and even I know that some rules are made to be broken. What the hell does it even matter if I love you? If you love me, does it fucking matter if Nick says we're perverts? If the world thinks we're crazy? God, Tommy, please don't do this. You're the only person I want to be with." His voice cracked at the last bit, and his own eyes were welling up with something that Tommy did not want to believe were tears.

"I'm not fucking arguing with you about this. I already told you that it's over and I don't want you to fucking touch me ever again. I don't love you and I never fucking did." Tommy nearly choked on those words as they left his mouth, but he managed to hold his tears back. "And you're not sleeping in my bed anymore. This discussion is over." He exhaled one more time and then pushed past a stunned Hank to grab the bottle of bourbon from the cabinet before striding down the hall to his bedroom and locking himself in there. He needed to get absolutely wasted.

But for the first time in his life since he was a child, Tommy Howard cried himself to sleep, muffling the sounds with a pillow over his face. His one final thought before falling asleep was that maybe something would happen and he wouldn't have to wake up in the morning. He didn't want to wake up ever again, not after this. It wasn't fucking worth it anymore. He just wanted to die.


End file.
